


Halcyon (+ on + on)

by DancingMantis



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Multiple, Drabble, Fallout AU, Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingMantis/pseuds/DancingMantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Dragon Age AU drabbles. Chapter 2: Things you said at 1 a.m., Cullen x Lavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thin Orange Haze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loquaciousquark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loquaciousquark/gifts).



> Recommended listening: "Dead Flag Blues" by Godspeed You! Black Emperor. (It probably takes less time to read this than to get through the song's opening monologue, but trust me, the song is worth it.)

The heat was silent, but for the static of wind over dead earth. Somewhere, a dog barked—something feral and frothing, no longer a mabari. Jagged metal sliced the sky beyond the haze of miles.

The sweat upon her brow was quick, evaporating as it formed. A hot and dusty puff of air bowed the braid behind her back. A lizard skimmed across the baking soil, its four eyes seeking shade, two tongues tasting its way.

“We cannot stay,” his voice rumbled, calm and even. Not a judgment; a fact. A reminder for her own sake, she knew. Lyrium ghouls did not feel rads like the living. She wondered if he even felt the poisoned itch anymore, after it infected his blood. The scars still ached, but did his bones? His fevered dreaming and the muttered prayers it birthed were all so alien to her, even three years on.

A white-scarred hand brushed hair from his brow. “You will fall ill.”

She sighed and stood, slowly, savoring the last inches of shade. Green eyes fell as they always did to the scar across her nose, a token from a yao guai’s paw.  She felt the rads trickle, aching, into the shiny, taught skin, and knew he was right.

With a sigh, she pulled her helmet from her arm and nestled it snugly on her neck. She felt the seal click, and his green eyes turned outwards.

“Only a few days from here to the Glow,” she said with a cheer she did not feel. He looked at her, sideways but silent.

She smiled at him. Her face was lost beneath the helmet, but she imagined he heard it in her voice.

“Come on, Fenris,” she said, as her mabari came loping toward them. They stepped from the shade, and walked into the west.


	2. Things you said at 1 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of the "Things you said" meme on tumblr. Cullen/Lavellan, "Things you said at 1 a.m."

Her voice was no more than a murmur in the dark. “Don’t fix it.”

Moonlight poured over her hand, pooling into shadows where her fingers traced circles on his breast. A gentle, almost infinitesimal stutter in their path across his skin stirred his attention stirred to hazy life.

Cullen glanced down at where her head lay on his shoulder. Her face was turned away, and he could see no more than the tip of a pointed ear and a crown of tousled auburn hair that had been soaked to dark pewter in the moonlight.

His chest tightened against his will. “What do you mean?” he asked, voice more level than he felt.

“The hole in your ceiling,” she murmured, fingers continuing their trail by rote. When he didn’t respond, she turned to rest her chin atop his chest. Her eyes, he saw, looked everywhere but at him.

“You… _like_ it.” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “It’s not too cold for you?”

A twinkle lit her eyes, and she spared him a quick glance. “There are ways to keep warm.”

Cullen laughed, a small rush of relief as he tightened his arm about her. He pushed the hair from her face and rested his palm against her cheek as she settled onto her side next to him. The corners of his mouth curled fondly, and he ran a callused thumb across her temple. “You are a demon,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to her brow.

When he pulled back, he saw that her face was drawn. Cullen frowned. “Dethari?”

The sigh, soft as it was, seemed to deflate her entire being. “This is going to sound laughably Dalish of me, but I… prefer the moonlight.” Absently, she skimmed a hand across Cullen's chest. “Josephine says that nobles spend a great deal of coin on curtains that can block out even the faintest starlight. But we,” she said, then paused. “Clan Lavellan always slept outdoors. There was always starlight. I can’t even imagine such a thing.”

Cullen's chest clenched at her pause, but he swallowed his concern. “There are cloudy nights, surely?”

Dethari hummed in agreement. “They're unavoidable. But the youngest children are taught to never leave camp without Mythal's lantern.” After a pause, she added, sheepishly, “Moonlight.”

His hand tightened about her shoulder in reassurance. When she spoke again, her tone was quieter, dulled to earnestness by the twin weights of sleep and revelation. “During a new moon, we banked the fires and pressed together around them to keep warm. If it stormed, then we slept in the aravels, a half-dozen lethallin in a space the size of this bed.”

Somewhere in the edge of Cullen's awareness, something clicked. He rose, slowly on one arm, studying her. When her eyes finally met his, realization hit like a hoof to the chest. “But you’ve been sleeping alone, under a closed roof, for months now.” When she did not respond, a small groan escaped his mouth, and he cupped her cheek in his palm. “Dethari, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Her brow furrowed. “I’ve been a bit busy,” she said with a touch of petulance.

Cullen’s mouth turned down, though his eyes were soft. “You should have told me.”

She pulled her cheek from his hand and flopped onto her back, pointedly looking everywhere but at him. “This is ridiculous. Forget I said anything.”

Cullen sighed and brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “Why didn't you say anything? Two words to Josephine and she could have given you entirely new quarters. Maker knows she's managed greater miracles than a sky window.”

Dethari's mouth curled in a smile of gratitude, if not humor. Silence stretched between them for several moments before she spoke again. Her voice was low, and tired. “The last thing the Inquisition needs is to be reminded that its Inquisitor is an elf, and a pagan.” Her chest heaved in a silent sigh. “They believe they understand me. They reduce me in their minds to a human with pointed ears and decorated skin. They have provided every comfort that _fantasy_ needs. Where is the good in pointing out their failures?”

“Dethari,” Cullen murmured, and she looked at him.

“We are different,” she said, a trickle of bitterness swelling her voice to strength. “In ways that you cannot even begin to imagine, and I cannot even begin to number. Were I given a paper and quill and a night’s watch to list our differences, I would hardly know where to start. What good does it do to draw attention to it?” Cullen’s throat tightened, words failing him. She reached up and scrubbed tiredly at her eyes, which now shone dangerously. “The Inquisition is a puzzle crafted by humans, and I am the lone piece that does not fit.”

“ _Ma vhenan_. ”

The words burst from Cullen's throat before he could stop them. Dethari’s hand stilled, and an icy panic gripped him.

“I—Maker, I’m sorry, I don’t even know if that’s the right wo—“

Full lips crashed against his. Distantly, he felt long fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, and strong arms pull him downward against soft skin. He closed his eyes as a tongue swept across his lips, drawing a low breath from deep in his chest.

Cullen didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but when they parted, Dethari's eyes were shining at him in the dark.

“Where…?” she asked, eyes searching his face intently. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

He chuckled and rested his forehead against hers, long arms sliding around his neck. “Does it matter?”

“Not in the least.” Her lips found his, and strong arms pulled him back toward the bed.

 


End file.
